


Just a Dream

by WhatTimeIsItInTokyo



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Coco Locos Angst Off 2018, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 10:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15947777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatTimeIsItInTokyo/pseuds/WhatTimeIsItInTokyo
Summary: Hector's dream finally comes true.Entry for the Coco Locos Angst Off 2018.





	Just a Dream

Héctor woke up with a groan.

 _Dios_ , he didn’t want to wake up. He never did the weeks following a failed crossing attempt. Waking up would mean facing another year of frenzied half-crazed schemes, insults hurled at him by mocking skeletons, pitying looks from his _primos_ in Shantytown, and the crippling depression that seemed to weigh him down like a ton of bricks. But he knew sooner or later he would have to open his eyes and greet the day. Maybe someone had managed to scavenge a bottle of something strong enough to knock him out again for a little while.

With a mournful sigh he opened his eyes and glanced up at the dinky lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, his gaze trailing down the wire where it wove its way into a hole in the wall clumsily covered up by a picture of _la_ _Virgen de Guadalupe_. _Ay_ , one day he would have to get that taken care of. When he and Ernesto struck it rich he would be able to provide enough for proper outlets and switches for Imelda and Coco. And he wouldn’t keep accidentilly knocking off that stupid picture-.

_Wait._

_What?_

_WHAT?!_

With a gasp he sat up and frantically ogled at his surroundings. This was not his shack! Well, technically it was a boathouse next to an actual shack, having given up an actual one for a larger family in need, but still this was not his home!

As he took in his environment memories started to flood back. The dark hardwood floors that still collected dust like crazy no matter how many times it was swept. The vanity table that only held a bowl for washing, a small atomizer filled with rosewater and a half dozen purple ribbons. The faded streaks of color on the wall near the floor from when one naughty little girl had drawn a picture of cats, dogs and pigs. He took in all the details of the bedroom and stared in disbelief. He was in a bedroom. His bedroom from Santa Cecilia.

He was home!

He brought a hand to his head as he tried to wrap his mind around what he was seeing and startled when instead of a clack of bone he heard and felt the slapping of flesh. He looked at his hands and gasped again. Skin! He had skin! It had been so long since he had seen skin he had forgotten how callused over his fingers were from playing guitar and how freckles dusted the backs of them. Reaching up he felt his face: Big nose, big ears, long eyelashes and thick bushy eyebrows. Stumbling to his feet he reached the mirror of the vanity table and was able to see what he felt. It was the same face as that stupid picture he seemed to have of himself, only instead of a goofy grin he was staring as if he had seen a ghost.

_No, not a ghost._

_I’m not a ghost!_

_I’m_ alive _!_

“Héctor, how long are you going to sleep in? It’s almost time for mass!”

Héctor tore his gaze away from his reflection and slowly walked out of the bedroom and down the hall. Every nook and cranny looked exactly as how he left it. Making his way to the outdoor kitchen he made a small, broken sound at the who he saw standing in front of the stove.

Imelda.

His beautiful, bold and fierce Imelda.

She turned around when she felt his eyes on her and Héctor couldn’t help but flinch away. Instead of fury and hatred in her gaze he saw love and empathy. “Héctor, is something wrong? You look upset.”

Héctor’s throat bobbed up and down as he painfully tried to speak. “I don’t know, I-… I must have had a horrible dream. I dreamt I was alone without you and Coco. That you hated me and wanted nothing to do with me ever again.” The pain became too great until a form of release hit him: Tears began to pour down his face and he choked on a sob. “I dreamt I was in _hell_.”

“Oh Héctor.” Imelda smiled sweetly and stood on her toes to give him a proper kiss and to wipe away his tears. He leant into the touch as she cradled his cheeks. “It was just a dream. Someone like you would never end up in hell, mi amor. And I would _never_ stop loving you.”

This caused Héctor to release a half-laugh, half-cry and he flung his arms around her tightly. Inhaling her sweet scent and melting into embrace, he sniffled. “And I never stopped loving _you_.”

“Papá!”

Héctor broke away from his wife and turned towards the sound out little shoes running towards him at high speed. The shock of seeing his baby girl after all of these years _(No, not years. It was just a dream!)_ made his heart skip a beat and send him to his knees. He numbly felt her collide into his chest and when she wrapped her arms around him he managed to break out of his stupor. “Coco!”

“Did you sleep good Papá?” Coco smiled sweetly up at him.

“I-uh… No, I… Papá had a very bad dream.”

Coco pouted and touched his face with her small hand. “I’m sorry Papá. Were there monsters?”

Héctor laughed. “No mija. I dreamt that I would never see you again.”

Coco laughed. “That’s silly. I’ll always be with you!”

With a smile he pressed a long, loving kiss on her forehead and hugged her closer. “Gracias mija. That’s all I ever wanted.”

They stayed like that for a while before Imelda picked up her daughter from Héctor’s grasp and held her against her hip. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but you need to get dressed. El Padre will not appreciate you coming into church in your pajamas.”

“Ah, right!” Héctor stood up shakily and held Imelda’s hand close. “I’ll go get dressed! Will you wait for me?”

“We will always wait for you Héctor.”

“Gracias!” Héctor turned around quickly and ran back towards the bedroom. “I’ll be right out! Don’t worry-AH!”

Not looking where he was going Héctor ran smack into the doorway and fell flat on his back. Holding both hands up against his throbbing face and twisting side to side, his moans of pain quickly turned into giddy laughs. “Ay, that hurt! It hurt so much! Ha ha! That means this isn’t a dream! I’m alive!”

He quickly sat up. “I’m alive! I’m back home! _Gracias a Dios_ -”

And once again he was met with rotting boards, the sound of dirty water splashing against the underside of the floor, a dirty sheet that served as a door and the smell of garbage and decay. He could feel the brittleness of his bones, could feel the intense hatred of his beloved wife, and he could feel his elderly daughter slowly forgetting him.

He stayed there for who knew how long, staring in complete silence as his rapturous happiness slammed back down into immeasurable anguish. He didn’t notice that he had slowly slid back down onto his mildew soaked mattress and pulled the grimy blanket over his bony shoulder. It was only when he had closed his eyes that his mind concentrated on one thought:

_I just need to go back to sleep._

_Go back to sleep._

_I shouldn’t have woken up._

_I don’t want to wake up._

_Please._

_Please please please!_

_Don’t ever wake up!_

_Please!_


End file.
